The air was thick with smoke and tension, the aftermath of the battle still lingering in the ruined compound.
Emily stood over Lena, her pulse pounding in her ears. The gun in her hand felt heavier than it ever had before Lena clutched her wounded shoulder, blood seeping through her fingers.
Despite the pain, her expression was unreadable. The weight of their fractured trust hung between them, heavier than the battlefield's destruction.
Around them, soldiers from Lena's mysterious faction hesitated, waiting for orders.
Victor Hale, still kneeling from the gunshot wound in his leg, let out a breathless chuckle.
"Well," he muttered. "That was unexpected."
Emily barely heard him. Her attention was locked onto Lena, searching for something—anything—that would explain why this had happened.
"Call them off," Emily said, voice firm but laced with emotion.
Lena's jaw tensed. "I can't do that."
The words hit Emily harder than they should have.
